Free Stephanie James by Love Grows in Winter

sir.”
    Philip’s guilt over making Olivia cry had chased away his own appetite, but he forced down all the food that was placed before him. Really, he shouldn’t feel this way. He had done the right thing. Olivia needed to behave more like a lady. Philip had absolutely no cause to feel guilty or foolish over a pair of Godforsaken breeches, especially when Olivia had no decent reason for wearing them. Yet he did.
    Oh, for God’s sake, damn her tears and her tantrum! Philip just needed to learn to be stricter. He truly was a silly fool when it came to women. Not a single one of them could ever fail at making him a prize idiot. Olivia was no exception.
    Let her be mad, let her hate him. Let her cry in her room because of him. He would not allow her to prance around in those damned breeches if he could put a stop to it. And he had stopped it, he thought with a smile as he forced down another spoonful of potatoes. She had been taught a lesson — end of story, end of problem, time to move on.
    But still he couldn’t stop thinking about the pain he had seen so clearly etched on her face. All through dinner, all through sharing a nightcap with Mr. Winter in the parlor, and now, drinking his second brandy in the parlor alone before the fire, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
    Why was he so concerned about her anyway? He didn’t have the slightest bit of interest in her. To start, she wasn’t his type. Her hair was too light, her skin was too pale, and her eyes were too dark. Were they? He realized suddenly that he didn’t know the color of her eyes. He had never paid any sort of particular attention to them. Next time I see her, I must remember to check…
    “Oh for Heaven’s sake!” he said gruffly to himself when he regained his senses. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and pressed his glass to his forehead. The color of her eyes did not matter. Even if they turned out to be the most beautiful color he had ever seen, there were plenty of other reasons why he should not be interested in Miss Olivia Winter.
    She was too improper, too ill-tempered, too honest —
    Too honest?
    Could he really fault her for being in possession of a quality he believed was in short supply amongst women of society? Perhaps not logically, but he would do it anyway. Honesty was good, but Olivia’s brand was too sharp and painful to hear.
    He slung back the rest of his brandy and rose from the sofa. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while, but he wanted to at least try to. The events of the day were still bothering him, but Philip was convinced that after a night’s rest they would seem unimportant, or, in the very least, dulled in severity. Problems always seemed easier after sleep.
    He shuffled groggily towards the parlor door and turned the knob. The door was less than a foot away from its frame when a tiny figure burst forth and lunged at him.
    “You rotten bastard!”
    Hands slapped at his chest, face, and arms.
    “Good Christ, Olivia!” Philip whispered harshly and grabbed her arms to set her away from him. “What the devil are you doing?”
    “You ruined everything!” she cried and wrenched her arms out of his grasp. “You’ve ruined it all.”
    “I’ve done no such thing. What could I possibly have ruined?”
    “My life,” she said plainly.
    Philip cocked a suspicious brow and placed his hands on his hips. “I hardly think making certain you dress properly credits me with ruining your life. Don’t be so dramatic, please.”
    “It’s not just that,” she said. Tears spilled from her eyes — eyes that Philip could see, even in the dim light, were filled with rage. Yet despite her current fury, Philip could not stop himself from noticing Miss Winter’s appearance. Her hair was down (again) and lying in sleek, shiny curls down past her shoulders.
    She was dressed in a nightgown and robe. Both were loose, white, made of linen, and far too transparent in the firelight. He could see the gentle